


Of disappearances and disguises

by Mierke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Red Band Society
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 23:51:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2600942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mierke/pseuds/Mierke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger is looking for a place to rest and finds someone who gives her hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of disappearances and disguises

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a post-war AU for Harry Potter. No timeline for Red Band Society.

With a sigh Hermione dropped on a barstool, leaned her arms on the bar and rested her head atop of them. She could really, really use a firewhisky right now. But of course, she had to have picked a muggle establishment and she had no idea what the equivalent would be of a nice Ogden's Old.

"A normal whiskey will have to suffice, I suppose," she murmured, hardly registering the fact she was answering the bartender's question as to what she wanted. She didn't lift her head when he put down the drink next to her, just raised her hand in a thank you.

"Are you even old enough to drink? Did you card her?" came a voice to the left of her.

Hermione groaned and took her magically faked American ID out of her pocket.

"That's alright then, I suppose," came the same voice. The bartender didn't even seem to have noticed, though of course, Hermione couldn't be sure with her eyes still resting on her arms. The woman didn't sound satisfied and, sure enough, she didn't stop talking.

"What are you doing here, girl? Don't you have someplace nice to be?"

"Looking for a friend," Hermione answered despite herself. She had been alone for far too long, she concluded. She really should know better than to talk to strangers.

"What does he look like?"

"I wish I knew," she murmured, but out loud she said: "Why do you care?"

"I work in the hospital, maybe he's been admitted and you just don't know it."

Hermione sighed, wishing it were that easy.

"It's not that he disappeared, he just... ran away," she said.

"Lots of runaways end up in the hospital," the woman pointed out, but Hermione just shook her head.

"Not this one."

For a while there was silence. Hermione raised her head to take a sip of her drink, when her curiosity got the better of her and she glanced at the woman next to her. The woman gave a small smile and held out her hand.

"Dena Jackson," she said.

Hermione hesitated for just a minute, then she took the woman's hand.

"Hermione Granger."

"Do you expect to find your friend in a bar like this?" Dena gestured around her. Hermione had to admit, it didn't have the friendliest atmosphere, but she had needed a refuge.

"Probably not," she admitted. "But I've been looking for months. Sometimes I need to do nothing for a night."

"I understand. Are you sure you don't want to tell me what he looks like? It will give me a chance to look out for him."

"I don't even know what he looks like these days," Hermione said. "He is... a master of disguises."

The first thing they had noticed, after the initial panic of Harry being gone had faded to a steady fear, was that he had taken his entire supply of Polyjuice Potion with him. Just after the war he had begun stacking it to be able to go outside without being recognized.

"Everyone has a distinctive feature," Dena replied. "Birthmarks, scars, that kind of thing."

Despite herself, Hermione scoffed. If only it were that easy. When she realized there wouldn't be a reply forthcoming, Dena shrugged.

"Suit yourself. I'm only trying to help."

"I know," Hermione answered, so softly that the woman probably couldn't hear her. She would give anything to be able to talk freely about Harry for a change. There were others looking for him, of course, but they were so far apart that contact had been scarce.

She took another sip of her drink, grimacing a bit at the unfamiliar taste.

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to be found," she admitted, ignoring the pain the words caused. "I have failed. It's time to go home."

She raised her whiskey in a mock salute, and drank what was left. She startled when Dena laid a hand on top of hers.

"He'll come back to you," she said with so much conviction that Hermione almost believed her. "Don't give up."

Hermione shot her a grateful smile and stood to leave. Hesitating for a moment, she turned to Dena one more time.

"He can't see well," she said. "He's got a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead. And he probably can’t fake an American accent to save his life. If you run into him, could you please give me a call?"

She handed the woman her card.

"Sure thing," Dena replied.

Hermione left the bar, unsure of what had gotten into her. It was ridiculous to hope that this woman would ever run into Harry, let alone be able to recognize him. But Harry’s stack of Polyjuice had to run out sometime, and if she were really lucky, maybe that's when he would end up in Los Angeles. In a world where magic was everywhere, she had to believe in miracles. Dena was right. Giving was up not an option.


End file.
